


Looking Just To See

by genee



Category: Popslash
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2004-01-10
Updated: 2004-01-10
Packaged: 2017-10-12 01:25:24
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,390
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/119248
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/genee/pseuds/genee
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p><em>You just might find, you get what you need...</em></p>
            </blockquote>





	Looking Just To See

**Author's Note:**

> Many thanks to silveryscrape for the challenge -- _write porn!_ \-- and for the encouragement -- _you can do it!_ \-- and for the wonderful beta suggestions, too.

  
Lance is just out of the shower and sifting through his bag for something clean, rubbing the water from his hair and not really paying attention, so it's a couple minutes before he realizes this isn't his bag. They're at some nowhere hotel, nice enough, but Lance is tired and this isn't his bag and just, fuck it. Everything inside is soft and worn and way too big, hoodies and warm-ups and he really should have noticed sooner, but he didn't. That's what he tells himself anyway, fingers sliding along the fabrics inside, slippery jersey knits and nubby cotton socks. He feels rough edges, too, toiletries and cds and something else, something hardsoft and pliant, wrapped up in flannel and still, it just _fits_ in his hand. Lance knows before he sees it, oh lord, he _knows_ , and he swallows hard and closes his eyes and just, god _damn_ , it's fucking _hot_ , the thought of it, images blurring behind his eyes.

It's been years since he's thought of Justin, of any of the guys, as something other than brothers, but in the beginning? Hell, yeah. It was easier, somehow, imagining them as some sort of warped boyporn, singing and dancing and sharing rooms. It didn't last long, though, that phase, because pretty soon they really were like family, closer maybe, too close, and it was just easier not to think of them at all. But they've been mostly apart for a while now, for years really, and the floodgates are open, wide open, and Lance can't close them now. Wouldn't do it even if he could, not with one hand sliding through the thick cotton of his hotel robe, his dick already heavy and full and pulsing, so alive, so different from the one in his other hand, the one in Justin's bag.

It's fucking hot, the idea of Justin wanting cock so much he bought one for himself, and Lance has to open his eyes now, has to stroke himself slow and hard for just a minute more before he pulls his hand away. Because maybe Lance has never been much of a bottom boy, but Justin has a dildo and Lance is sure as hell gonna take a closer look. It's a pretty basic model, not some futuristic dick-type thing, and it's not a joke, either. It's real enough, not too veiny, ridges and balls and with his hands on it, heating it through, it's almost silky, almost like skin. And Lance can almost see Justin spread out now, slick and open, his dick leaking on his belly, fucking himself, the hard velvet burn of silicone, in and out, the same silicone sliding through Lance's sweatdamp palms, and he has to, he can't help it, he lifts one hand to his lips and licks, just one finger, just the faintest hint of soap and Justin, hot and needy and not nearly enough.

And fuck, Lance is fucking hard now, harder than Justin's dildo, that's for damn sure. Lance knows he shouldn't be pressing it against his skin, rubbing the smooth tip over his the his nipples, lower, down his abs, sliding it against his dick, side by side, comparing, the head of it nudging at his balls. Lance's dick is bigger, thicker, not nearly so perfect as the dildo but hot, so hot, dark red and dripping and Lance knows it's wrong to play with someone else's sex toys, with _Justin's_ sex toys, because this is so clearly something Justin wouldn't mean to share. And because Justin's _straightstraightstraight_ , has always claimed to be, anyway, even if he's been tripping Lance's gaydar for years now, with his big hands and lean muscles and really, Justin's always been a touchy kind of guy.

It's always been for comfort though, especially in the beginning, when they were all lonely and tired and on the road for too damn long, and Justin would press his head to Lance's hand and sigh, Lance's fingers twisting through his curls. Later, there's reassurance mixed in, when Justin's been demanding in rehearsal or pushy in the studio or just having a hard day with the press, and Lance has always been sure not to think of it as anything else, no matter what his dick thought might be going on. And even if it looks like maybe his dick was right all along and Justin's not straight, not now, not with a dildo like this one that doesn't even strap on, doesn't even pretend to be anything but what it is, Lance knows he should stop. He knows he should wrap Justin's cock back into its flannel and tuck it back into Justin's bag and maybe smoke a cigarette out on the balcony and call Justin's room and see if that's where his own bag might have wound up and never, ever think of this again.

He should, but his hand feels so fucking good, he's so turned on, the soft slide of silicone against his dick and he can't, he has to, he lets the dildo slip from his grasp. He can almost smell Justin in the air, on his skin, taste him on his lips and Lance isn't going to, he isn't, just his fingers, hot and thick in his mouth and soon, soon. Tight, he's so fucking tight, and hot, and his hand glides on his dick just right, one more stroke, long and slow and he feels the moan catch low in his throat before he comes, liquid heat spreading through his belly, slick wet spurts and sparks behind his eyes, Justin's name on his lips, salty and so, so sweet.

Lance is still damp from the shower when he knocks on Justin's door, clean and warm, afterglow like an aura and it still feels so fucking good. Of course he notices now, Justin's fingers tugging at his robe, blue eyes drifting to the bag slung over Lance's shoulder, black and leather and slightly unzipped.

"Yo, Lance," Justin says, bright smile and sparkly eyes and all that confidence, so shiny, and Lance knows he might have missed it still, if he hadn't come here looking just to see. "Is that, hey? Is that my bag?"

Lance raises an eyebrow, and Justin steps back, opening the door a little more, biting his lip, perfect white teeth and pretty pink tongue and oh yeah, Lance sees it now, right there, and he's not about to look away. "Sure is, J."

"Is this?" Justin's fingers slide under the arm of Lance's t-shirt, _Justin's_ t-shirt, and, oh _fuck_ , "Mine? Are you, uhm?"

"Hmmm?" Lance asks, but really, he's just listening now, questions and answers and he damn well knows an invitation when he hears one. Two steps, and he's in Justin's suite and Justin's space and Justin's breath hitches in his throat, a soft needy sound Justin's smile tries so hard to hide. "Somethin' you wanna ask me, J?"

  
"Fuck, Lance."

"Oh, I do believe," Lance drawls, smiling, and Justin sways closer, heat radiating from his skin, and Lance basks in the swell of warm air as he reaches past Justin and locks the door. This close, Justin smells just like he tastes, petalsmooth and spicy underneath the sweet. "Nice," Lance breathes, brushing his lips over Justin's. "So nice, J."

"Lance, I --" and there's that sound again, sweet and breathy and almost a moan, and Lance wants to hear more, wants to hear it again and again. Another kiss, hot and wet and Lance licks at the soft dip in Justin's lip, fingers sliding beneath the collar of Justin's robe, smiling when he's rewarded with another little gasp. "Lance, fuck."

And lord, Justin's hot like this, just like Lance imagined, and he swallows hard, whispering low, a murmur against Justin's skin. A prayer maybe, something like that, like thanks, because maybe their bags just got mixed up and maybe Lance peeked when he shouldn't have and maybe he didn't know what he was looking for, but he sure as hell found it and there's no going back now. He wants this, has wanted this for fucking ever, even if he hasn't thought of it in years. And Justin? Fuck, Justin wants this too, is practically begging for it, and Lance hasn't even asked him for that, not yet. But, "Oh, baby, you know I will."

  


\-- END --


End file.
